Rhythm & Hues: Interlude I
by Okami-chan
Summary: Day to day for Rhythm & Hues amongst the Autobots. Fourth up. Ratchet is pleased to finally end the stupid quarantine. Things don't go as expected for the twins, however. WARNING! Incest in this chapter. Rating has been upped as a result.
1. Daddy

Rhythm & Hues: Interlude I

Daddy

* * *

Sparkplug sipped from a mug of steaming coffee to ward off the early morning spring chill. Jazz kept half his attention on the monitors before him, while he chatted with the human. He knew Sparkplug's eyes rested on the blue femme on the training grounds.

They couldn't hear Ironhide's snarl, but they could see Rhythm's frustration in the tautness of her doorwings and the thin line of her mouth.

"You know, Jazz, as much as you adopt our ways, I'm surprised you don't have them calling you 'Dad.'"

Jazz tilted his visor down at the chunky man. A wicked grin replaced his contemplative look and he opened a channel, putting it on the speakers for Sparkplug.

"Hey, Rhythm!"

"What do you want, Jazz? I'm sure you can see I'm a little busy." Purple optics slid a glare toward the camera, only to whip back when Ironhide snapped for her attention.

"I was just wonderin' if I could get ya t' call me Dad, or," he brightened, bouncing on his heel wheels, "even better Big Daddy Jazz."

Wide optics stared at the camera until Ironhide yelled again. Rhythm winced and fired at the target, hitting the ground beneath. "I swear, _Jazz_, if you get me in trouble with Ironhide, I'm going to… to blast you with this rifle!" She waved the weapon at the camera emphatically. Ironhide marched over and walloped the back of her head.

Jazz leaned on the console, roaring with laughter. "If y' can hit me, babydoll."

"Shut UP, _Jazz_!" There came the distinctive static click of a comm. unit being turned off.

Sparkplug clutched at his side, leaning against the Porsche's leg as he shook with mirth.

"Well I guess that's a no go from her. Heh. I see why y' like to torment Spike so much now. It's too much fun."

Thu human nodded his balding head, face red as he caught his breath. "It is, isn't it?"

* * *

"So, how did patrol with Hues go?" Trailbreaker asked, grinning up at Hound.

Hound opened his mouth, then shut the scathing reply off. He plunked himself down across from the SUV. "I might have to ask Jazz how a _dancer_ could have such Primus-slagged balance in her alt-mode." Hound thunked his head on the table. "She managed to slip off the track we were on. Over a guard rail to boot. She's wearing on _my_ patience."

Trailbreaker laughed, rubbing the back of the tracker's head sympathetically. "Was she hurt?"

"She wouldn't have been if she hadn't tried to transform while she was sliding. She managed to wrench her leg servos. Ratchet's seeing her right now."

Trailbreaker slid his half full mug toward Hound's gray hands. "Well dirt and rock are different than paved streets. Give her time to adjust."

Hound harrumphed and lifted his head to down the rest of Trailbreaker's energon. "Sports cars shouldn't be patrolling mountain roads." He stood to retrieve two full cups. "How went Rhythm's target practice, Mirage?"

Mirage winked into view. His even expression contrasted the tenseness of his frame. "She couldn't hit Devastator if he were standing right in front of her," he groused. "Prowl's taken over. He's determined she will at least hit the target today."

Hound smirked and leaned over to pointedly sniff at the spy, a gesture he knew irked the noble. "Well, you don't smell like blaster burns today." They headed for the energon dispenser. Hound idly swung the mug by its handle.

Mirage glowered down at the tracker. "It wasn't my fault, Hound. Who knew she had the targeting systems of a…" he sourly paused in search of a word, "maintenance drone."

They filled their cups and headed back to the .0couches. They sat down, Hound sitting next to Trailbreaker and Mirage across from them.

"I wish Ratchet would hurry up and give them their upgrades. Those two are not programmed shoot a gun," Mirage grumbled.

"Or drive on dirt roads," Hound added, though what little frustration he held had leached away in sympathy of Mirage.

Trailbreaker shook his head at their echoing grumbles. "Well there's Hound's short."

Hound looked up and Mirage glanced over his shoulder.

Hues paused at the doorway, scanning the gathered mechs. She focused on one in particular and her doorwings lifted happily.

"Jazzdaddy!"

Optics raised in surprise at the cheerful call. Silence deafened the room.

Jazz turned from his conversation with Smokescreen and laughed. He stood and embraced the giggling Esprit.

"Hues babydoll!"

"Rhythm said you were pestering her about name calling all day."

Jazz chuckled and released his creation. "Yeah, but I said I wanted to be 'Big Daddy Jazz.'"

Hues waved at everyone even as she flicked her doorwings at the newly dubbed 'Jazzdaddy.' "Well, you're not going to completely get your way. Then you'll think you can walk all over me." She made her way to the energon dispenser, playfully bumping bots out of the way with her hips.

"I was wondering why Rhythm was so distracted," Mirage sighed.

As if on cue, Rhythm stalked into the room, and headed straight for Jazz. The saboteur turned and ducked a swipe from the blue dancer's fist.

"_Jazz_ hold still so I can RIP THAT VISOR OFF YOUR FACEPLATE AND STUFF IT UP YOUR BORON COMPRESSOR!"

"Well, 'screen, I think that's my cue to leave. Later Hues!" He ducked another swing and dashed out of the lounge like his aft was on fire. Or like he had an angry blue femme chasing after him.

* * *

Author's notes: These interludes will be loosely connecting and of varying lengths depending on the subject matter. I'll also be doing something I don't usually do, with every update I'll be changing the summary to reflect the new chapter (or at least I'm going to try). The rating on this will go up in a few chapters due to the topic. Slash warnings(as well as others) will be applied where applicable. 


	2. Useless

Rhythm & Hues: Interlude I

Useless

* * *

"Where's Rhythm?" 

First Aid tilted his head up. He reached into the femme's leg. "Assisting Ratchet with Omega Supreme. Why?"

The red-orange dancer grimaced as the medic-in-training scraped against a sensitive circuit. "It's nothing."

"If it were nothing, you wouldn't have said anything." First Aid cut away, burnt wires, mumbling apologies as his patient winced.

"I'd just rather have her do this."

The Protectobot paused, visor flashing. "Is there something wrong with the way I'm doing it?"

"What? No! That's not what I meant."

He leveled a glare at Hues, waiting expectantly for an answer. He had picked up more than the healing art from his teacher.

Her mouth opened and closed a few times as her vocalizer buzzed with her hming and hawing. "Well, it's just…" Her doorwings tensed as his engine grumbled at her.

"You don't _want_ me to help you?"

"Well, not really." He straightened, clenching the tool in his fist. "Wait! That's not what I meant!" Hues grabbed his arm, much to his amusement, her optics glowing with her apology. "I-I-"

First Aid took the femme's hand in his own, stroking her reassuringly. "What?" He used his softest, most coaxing voice, trying to convince the dancer to tell him what the problem was.

"It's just, well, I don't want you wasting your time on me," she mumbled, doorwings drooping below her shoulders.

"You're not a waste of time," he told her, tapping her chin up so she could look him in the optic.

"Well, yeah, actually I am." She gestured at the hole in her leg. "I'm a waste of time and resources. I can't believe I walked right into that missile." She sagged on the gurney, finally lying down-something he'd been trying to get her to do for the last megacycle. If Ratchet had been here, he would have simply shoved her down. First Aid didn't work like that.

"Don't say that, it's not easy being thrown into the middle of a war." He reached back into her, cleaning the wires so he could replace them.

"Rhythm seems to be adjusting just fine. Pits and rust, _you_ seem to fit in quite well. If it weren't for Ratchet, I'd think this was a Cybertronian shelter. You're so peaceable."

First Aid blinked at the dancer "_Grimlock_ would seem peaceable next to Ratchet." He tilted his head toward her again. "It took some adjustment for me as well, though. I even had a bit of a handicap to adjust to."

Purple optics looked at him, eager.

"I doubt you ever heard of the malfunction of the model T-20zs." At the shake of her head, he sighed. "The factory that constructed the basic model T-20z came from was sabotaged by a rival factory. The models came out defective."

Her optics narrowed, he could almost hear her processor piece together that information. "What kind of defects?"

"Shorts mainly. Some were produced without any self-preservation protocols."

She glanced at him, her doorwings twitching. "Doesn't that usually lead to insanity if it's not caught in time?"

"Considering the number of processes that affects, yes. Of course the rival factory had also bribed inspectors to pass those defects into normal society." He finished replacing the missing wires and began to extract the damaged circuit boards.

She continued to watch him. "What does that have to do with you?"

"They caught the protocol glitch in time, but…" he trailed off in thought. "My laser core had already cycled into not having visual definitions. My programming rejected every optical relay they attempted to fit me with, no matter what program they installed."

"You're blind?" Doorwings and vocalizer pitch rose in surprise.

"Yes," he paused, scorched paneling in one hand. "But my other sensors more than make up for the lack."

"They let factory defects into the medical academy? Were they that desperate?"

He ignored the scorn in her tone. "They weren't exactly aware of it."

Purple optics flashed. "And Ratchet?"

"Blew a fuse."

Hues shifted. "Are your sensors really that fine-tuned?"

"Yes," he finished unscrewing the panel and threw it to the side. It would be melted down and reused later. "Ratchet put me through the hoops, testing me."

She shifted again.

He paused again, new panel, half-way hinged. "Does that make you uncomfortable?"

"A little, but I figure Ratchet wouldn't let you do this if you weren't able." He heard the low hum of optic coming back online. "Don't tell Rhythm, though. _She'll_ fritz if she finds out." Doorwings tapped the berth. "Who else knows?"

"You, the officers, some of the crew."

"Your brothers?"

"Of course."

Her fingers brushed his arm. "Thank you, then."

He flashed his visor. "Ratchet was going to let Rhythm know, but I might ask him to put that off a little longer." He resumed hinging the panel. "I didn't think I'd be able to do anything. Shortly after my sparking they bonded me to the rest of the Protectobots. I didn't tell them, but they found out the first time we formed Defensor. They knew I'd always wanted to be a medic and helped me pass the systems check. Then Ratchet took me on as an apprentice." He ran deft fingers over the seam, making sure it all ran even. "It's just a matter of finding your niche. When you're taken off quarantine, you'll be allowed further training. You'll find your place."

He helped her sit up.

Her doorwings shifted, and she tilted her head. "Thanks Aid. I appreciate it."

* * *

A/N: Even though I didn't 'win' Nano with this, like I'd hoped, I still managed to nearly finish the first set of Interludes. I've been sitting on this chapter for a while now, trying to edit it to my liking. It's still fairly talky, but that's to be expected with the situation, I guess. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about my femmes. 


	3. Faulty

Rhythm & Hues: Interlude I

Faulty

* * *

The two Esprit spun round and round. Squeals of delighted laughter coming from the dancers as they slid over the loose sand, tires unable to gain purchase. Their momentum threw up hefty amounts of grit and dust, spewing it over the mechs watching. 

Wheeljack's hoarse laughter joined their squeals. He plowed through the small dunes, fishtailing and spinning, and having a grand old time. The Lancia just loved the opportunity to show off, whenever you could drag him out of the lab, that is. But yes, he did love his stunt driving. Careening about, out of control, waiting for that right moment to turn the wheel just so, and zip the way you need to go.

The twins spun to a stop next to Sunstreaker's legs, kicking up dirt and dust over his paint job. Much to his disgruntlement. They transformed, laughing as the golden warrior scowled and swore at them. They skipped out of the reach of his grasping hands and waggled their doorwings at him.

"_Wheeljack, what are you doing?" _Ratchet's voice snapped over the comm. The CMO loved to watch Wheeljack perform, but he hated having to deal with the results. "_You're going to hi-__"_ An aggravated sigh hissed out of the ambulance's ventilators.

He slogged out into the loose sand, wincing at the feeling of grit clogging his joints. He righted the slightly crumpled rally vehicle, shaking his head. "'Jack, are you all right?"

"Izza' you Greengear?"

"I think it's time to go back to the base, Wheeljack."

"Ookay, Rhinestone. You know you look an awfully lot like Ratchet today."

The CMO twitched. "I'm going to dismantle you when you recover, you know that right?"

The Lancia chuckled. "You sound like him, too, slag he'd be mad at me right now."

"I'll have you know, he _is_ mad at you." Ratchet groused. He settled the Lancia onto firmer ground. "Can you transform?"

The inventor chuckled, parts sliding and moving until he wobbled on his legs. Ratchet looked him over, fingers running over the dents and dings, feeling for any breaks in the armor.

"Next time you'd better look out for that cliff face. Did your processor reset yet?"

The blue vocalizers flashed. "Yeah. Ow, that was painful."

"Let's get you into the medbay, I want to make sure none of the damage was permanent." The CMO slipped his friend's arm over his shoulder.

Rhythm appeared at Wheeljack's other side, her purple optics dancing. "What were you paying attention to that you didn't see those rocks?"

"Other things," the inventor replied simply.

"_Other things have door wings, by any chance?"_

Wheeljack slid a glare at the ambulance, accepting the shoulder Rhythm offered. "_Femmes are _designed_ to distract a mech's processor,"_ the inventor grumbled at the CMO over the private line.

"Dancers_ are designed to distract_ anyone's_ processors,"_ Ratchet snapped back.

Rhythm, completely oblivious to the exchange going on over her head, ran a critical optic over the Lancia's smashed chest plate. "That was actually kinda awesome." Her optics glinted merrily, doorwings twitching.

"Awesome?" Ratchet snarled.

"Felt awesome," Wheeljack groaned.

"_Awesome_?" Ratchet repeated, glaring past Wheeljack at his nurse-in-training. "Let's see how _awesome_ you think it is when you're the one hammering out the dents." The CMO paused in actively scanning Wheeljack to focus on his assistant. "And _why_ are you running so hot?"

Rhythm blinked at him for a moment. "It's fragging hot out, that's why." She glared back at him and Wheeljack leaned away as much as he was able.

"You're running _too_ hot, Rhythm. Why didn't you _say_ anything?" Ratchet cast his scan at the other twin. "Both of you are running hot!" He waved at Hues, who still taunted Sunstreaker.

The red-orange femme gestured rudely at the Lamborghini before she sprinted over. The buzz of a communiqué rang in his audios.

Hues flashed her optics and frowned at the CMO. "We've always run hot during the summer cycle."

Ratchet glowered at nothing in particular. Rhythm did smoke a little after their run in with Starscream a few months back. "You shouldn't be. I want to look into it. Medbay, now."

Hues whined, her doorwings drooping despondently."Really?"

"Yes, I'm not going to have you overheating while playing foolish games."

The femme reluctantly waved at the mechs who had replaced the Lancia and Esprits on the sands. Ratchet and Rhythm supported Wheeljack all the way to the medbay. They helped him onto a gurney and Rhythm started unlatching the damaged panels.

Ratchet took her shoulders and pushed her toward another berth. "First Aid can do that Rhythm. I want you and your sister to power down to cool off. As soon as I'm done here, I'll be looking at you both."

The Esprits rolled their doorwings at him, but obediently slid onto the berths and cycled off. First Aid slipped in beside his mentor, unlatching the rest of the panels.

Ratchet watched him work for a short breem, before he moved over to the cabinets, pulling down what he would need.

"Are they overheating?"

"Yes," Ratchet paused to glare at his apprentice. "This isn't the first time it's happened." It was not a question.

First Aid ducked his head. "I found Rhythm treating Hues a few weeks ago. They wouldn't tell me what was wrong and left soon after. I could smell smoke, though, and the temperature readings weren't as they should be."

Ratchet turned to place the full weight of his glower on his apprentice. "_Why_ wasn't I told of this, 'Aid?" The CMO checked to ensure the twins were offline.

"It seemed innocuous enough at the time, Ratchet. I didn't think Rhythm would endanger her twin. Sunstreaker and Siders have always come to you when they're worried about the other. If it was a problem, I thought she would mention it." The junior medic tossed the damaged panels to the side. The medbay filled with the harsh clangs and scrapes of metal striking metal. "I know you've walked in on Rhythm repairing Hues, but no matter how much you yelled, you never told her not to."

"I didn't tell her not to, because I wanted to know what she was using. I do not want her creating makeshift tools, or worse stealing _mine."_

The two medics worked silently for a long moment, until Ratchet called for his apprentice. He gestured at a small piece of machinery. "It's hard to believe they're as old as they are when they act so young. It's no wonder they're overheating. This thing's still set for Cybertron temperatures. I don't have the tools to reset it either. They'll need a completely new one." The CMO sighed. "There are days I hate this planet."

First Aid chuckled softly and went to retrieve two of many spare thermal regulators. Earth had hotter temperatures than Cybertron normally did. It had a bad tendency of blowing their regulators on a regular basis, as they were not set to deal with hot and humid climates. Wheeljack was still trying to come up with a solution to the problem. In the meantime they kept a good amount of spares, especially in the summer months.

* * *

Author's Notes: I've always been of the opinion that Cybertron is colder than Earth (though I can never remember if Cybertron is without a sun to warm it). I also feel that there should have been more problems than was shown in adjusting to the Earth environ.

* * *


	4. Play

Rhythm & Hues: Interlude I

Play

Author's Notes: This fic(like many others) is a chance to explore Cybertronian culture. As the characters are mechanical, and, in this universe, they don't reproduce through any sexual means (that I'm aware of at this point in time) I imagine 'Family' would have a different meaning to them. Some taboos that are set amongst a human society might not apply to a Cybertronian one. With this in mind...

WARNING! Incest and Esprit sandwich

* * *

Rhythm worked alongside First Aid, optics attentively watching him point out each item and what its use was. The junior medic was well aware of the fact the twin's attention was not really on him. Her attention was on the small area closed off with a curtain. Her doorwings twitched like the antennae of an earth insect, as though that would give her the capability of sensing the CMO's movements. Sensor sweeps pinged off First Aid's systems, revealing just how much her attention was not on him.

Normally Ratchet would dismiss one twin while he scanned the other. Today, however, was a special day. This would complete the final scan for the twins. Ratchet analyzed their lines of code as he went, which was why it had taken so long.

Sparkplug walked in, carrying a white McDonald's bag and an insulated cup. He sat down at one of the tables; set up special for the humans. Rhythm grinned at the human, calling a greeting in her singsong voice. Sparkplug replied gruffly. The two transformers tittered softly over their comm at the similarity between Sparkplug before his coffee and Ratchet before his energon.

The human took a few sips form his coffee cup, his breakfast biscuit already gulped down. He pulled out the small bag of hash rounds, munching on them one at a time. He was silent a few moments a few moments, his head turned toward them.

"Aren't you usually in the shooting range in the mornings?"

Rhythm glanced at Sparkplug, and her doorwings dipped in embarrassment. "I'd much rather be here doing inventory than out there shooting someone's foot off again."

First Aid crackled with laughter, earning a glare from the femme.

"And Ratchet had Prowl rearranged our schedules a little so he could talk to us."

The curtain scraped to the side, drawing three sets of eyes to the other femme that bounced out. She grinned at the two Autobots, her smile fading slightly when her optics turned to Sparkplug. She was quick to perk back up, though her steps took on a hesitant mince as she skipped past the small table and over to a gurney and sat down.

First Aid toned down his sensors a few degrees as their communication buzzed over through his systems.

"Someone's in a good mood this morning," Sparkplug commented, his mouth curved in a broad grin. He seemed to take some odd kind of joy in Hues' discomfort around him. He compared it to human femmes and small rodents.

"I've found that Rhythm is much grumpier than her sister," First Aid's mask lifted and his optics brightened in a faceless grin.

Rhythm's optics hummed brighter as she directed a glare at the junior medic, her doorwings rising. "Grump? I think you have me confused with-Hi Ratchet!"

The white mech paused to slide a suspicious glare at his newest helper. He held a datapad in his hand and his optics slid back down to study it. He nodded at the human still seated at the table. "Rhythm, you'd be welcome to go on permanent as a patrol unit."

The dancer squeaked and busied herself in fiddling in the cupboard.

The CMO smirked. "Well, you two have been waiting for this, I'm sure," he instantly had two attentive, purple optics on him. "Now, I still have to pass it through Prime," frowns met that statement, "but you're clean."

The twins waggled their doorwings, hydraulics humming happily. "Not that there was any doubt," Hues announced.

Ratchet shook his head, grumble rumbling from his chest.

Rhythm tilted her head, hands tucked behind her back, clinking against her rear windshield. "How long do you think it'll take before Prime gives the go ahead?"

The medic slid a glower at his nurse-in-training. "I'm sure you'll have it before nightfall."

First Aid chuckled. "You sound like you already have someone lined up."

Sparkplug seemed to twitch where he was sitting.

Hues jumped to her feet. "Well, Jazz has that new body. We need to get to know him again."

A choking sound came from the human mechanic.

Rhythm ignored the human's reaction and sashayed up to Ratchet, hands clasped behind her back. She brushed a doorwing against the CMO's shoulder, a vibrating purr humming from her engine. "Unless, of course, you'd like some proper thanks for all your effort."

Ratchet's frown deepened. "No."

First Aid wasn't really that surprised by that answer, even though he could tell Rhythm was by the hiccup of her engine.

"Maybe some other time?" she tried again.

"Not likely," he retorted. He turned and marched into his office, the door sliding shut with a pneumatic hiss.

The sound of Sparkplug's spluttering drew the three remaining sets of sensors to the human.

"Jazz?"

First Aid tilted his head, running a scan over the human, wondering if something was the matter with him. "Jazz?" he repeated.

"_Jazz_?" Muscles relaxed in what First Aid recognized as a gaping stare, eyes directed at Hues.

"Yes?" Hues ventured.

"Isn't he your dad- your creator?"

The three transformers exchanged a confused look.

"Yes?" Rhythm replied uncertainly.

"But you… you want to do- do-_ that_ with…"

"_Humans are so weird_," Hues sent over a tight line.

First Aid strangled a chuckle. Somehow he didn't think the human would appreciate it.

"Yes," Hues said aloud, impatience coloring her voice. With the scans done, both twins needed to report to other assignments. Tomorrow Ratchet would start upgrading them with armor and weapons (and targeting systems that they needed so badly).

"But he's your father!" Sparkplug finally spat out after more sputtering.

First Aid finally made the connection. He quickly communicated with the twins so they would understand. "_Humans don't interact with their creations in that manner_."

Twin optics blinked down at the human. "You mean humans don't-"

Sparkplug covered his ears. "Gah! Don't even talk like that!"

The twins frowned and Rhythm spoke up. "But how can you make sure Spike's functioning properly? You never said you had that much wealth that you could always take him to a medic."

Blood rushed to Sparkplug's cheeks. "Not like that! No! I don't want to know anymore." He stood. "I'm going to see what Wheeljack's working on!" He turned and left three very amused Autobots.

"Humans_are _so weird," Rhythm said, echoing her sister's earlier sentiment.

* * *

"Babydolls, what brings you here this time of night, not that it ain't nice to see ya." Jazz drew both femmes to his chestplate.

"We commed you, Jazz," Rhythm said caustically. "Don't act so surprised."

"What'd I say 'bout humorin' an old mech?" He stepped to the side to let the twins in. "I was actually expectin' ya t' be entertainin'."

They settled on the couch, a dancer on each side of Jazz. The twins slid close to their creator, doorwings drawing back as they leaned against his shoulders.

"Well, there's always the next cycle for them." Hues hummed, rubbing her cheek against Jazz's shoulder tire.

"We've missed you," Rhythm purred, her fingers dipping into the crevice that separated his chestplate from his roof. She drew sparking lines down his chest plate, sending surge through his system.

Jazz moaned, words failing him as he drew the femme near to bury his face in her neck. He ran his hands over her body, remembering the shape of her frame from before they had left. Hues tugged him away from the blue dancer, rubbing against his arm. The vibrations of her engine traveled along his frame, jittering his dental plates with a soft clicking sound. He turned to her, pulling her onto his lap so that their engines could vibrate together in a soothing, rapturous sensation.

He leaned back, allowing them access to his body. Deft hands explored his armor plating, drawing hisses from his ventilator or moans from his vocalizer. Dental plates nipped at his bumper, vibrating pleasantly in tandem with his systems. Rhythm pressed against his roof, stroking circles along his windshield.

"Ain't tryin' t' ign-ah-"

Rhythm grinned mischievously, gripping one of his seats. "You aren't ignoring me," she assured him in a soft voice.

Hues nuzzled against his cheek, drawing his attention back to her. Her fingers plaintively stroked down an access panel. He obligingly slid it to the side, finding her own open and waiting. With both twins pressed against him, one to his front, the other to his back, he plugged into Hues, groaning as she plugged into him.

Her optics widened, surprised.

He felt the connection between them, and then their systems shrieked. Internal alarms wailed and redlined.

* * *

"_AID!_"

The junior medic jumped in surprise. He checked to make sure he didn't sever any important wires on Bluestreak. He identified the source of the alarmed cry as Rhythm.

"_Is something wrong?"_ Which was really a dumb question. Why else would she be calling in such a panic?

"_It's Hues! And Jazz! Something happened. Oh, I don't know what to do. It just happened, I don't know how." _Panic raised her vocalizer's pitch to near shrieking.

First Aid forced himself to close up Bluestreak before answering. "_Calm_ down_, Rhythm." _He gave her a few astroseconds to calm herself, all the while trying to count the numerous things that could have happened with the fairly accident-prone femmes. "_Now, tell me, what happened._"

"_I can't! I can't!"_ Sobs broke her words and First Aid hurried in collecting his tools.

"_RHYTHM!_Tell _me what happened." _ He hated being so forceful, but she was leaving him no choice. He dashed out of the med bay, still weighing whether he should call Ratchet or not.

He preferred not to, unless it was a real emergency.

If only that slagging femme would calm down.

"_Everything was going fine_," she finally managed, "_and then they plugged in and-and… Oh First Aid, it looks like they crashed._" Hysterical pleas cut off abruptly, spurring him on at a faster rate.

Autobots stepped to the side, worry on their faces at the sight of one of the medical staff rushing toward the crew quarters.

"_Are they still plugged in?_" First Aid accessed all his knowledge on interface problems, but couldn't find any reason for a simultaneous crash.

"_Yes."_

"_Unplug them._" He switched channels. "_First Aid to Ratchet or Wheeljack._"

"_Ratchet here,"_ the CMO's voice growled still half asleep. "_'Jack's in his lab. Someone slagging well better be near termination._"

"_Jazz and Hues appear to have crashed_."

Silence for a few seconds and then swearing exploded over the comm.. "_I'm on my way._"

Jazz's door slid open, revealing Rhythm's fluid-streaked face. First Aid gently touched her shoulder before pushing her to the side. He took in the scene, noting the hum from Jazz's optical area, a sign he was about to come back online.

He pulled Hues off the saboteur scanning for any signs of consciousness.

The unconscious femme whirred weakly, as if she was stuck in the middle of a reset.

Rhythm hovered over his shoulder, shifting from one foot to the other noisily.

"Rhythm if you don't cut that out, I'll slagging throw you out. Tell me what happened," Ratchet covered the distance between the door and the couch in a few big steps.

The anxious dancer haltingly recounted a much more detailed version of the story she told First Aid. Ratchet glared at the twin suspiciously, his thoughts nearly audibly processing.

First Aid's mask dropped down in a frown, he hated it when he was treated as less than his mentor. Granted there was still much for him to learn, but how could he without being given a chance?

Ratchet pulled a scanner out of subspace and hooked it into Jazz's systems.

One of the saboteur's black hands reached out to Ratchet's own red one. A groan rumbled from Jazz's system. "Ratch? Wha-?"

Ratchet turned his hand to clasp the saboteur's for a brief moment. "Your systems crashed, Jazz. How are you feeling?"

"Crashed?" It was unusual to hear the jovial mech so disoriented. Even after battles he usually wasn't this out of sync. His visor flashed and he tried to sit up, but Ratchet forcefully shoved him back down. "Hues? Is she a'righ'?"

The CMO glanced at First Aid expectantly and the junior medic belatedly realized he should still be doing something. He pulled his own scanner out of his toolbag and plugged it into Hues. He heard Rhythm wince at the chirrup that emitted from the small scanner.

Jazz tried to sit up again, only to have Ratchet force him down. The saboteur frowned in alarm and concern.

"Stay there or I will knock you back off line with my wrench, Jazz."

Jazz didn't relax, but he did settle a little more. Ratchet stepped over to his apprentice, looking over First Aid's shoulder. "Well?"

First Aid was still compiling the data he received from the chirruping scanner. "Was Jazz's antivirus programming actively running?"

"Yes."

Jazz stiffened, sitting up. "I thought y-"

Rhythm added her own protest. "Your scan said-"

Ratchet raised a hand for silence.

"It actually looks like something attacked Hues' systems." First Aid turned to the saboteur. "What did your systems log at the time?"

There was a slight, tense pause as Jazz crossed his arms and checked his diagnostics. "I did this?" he murmured, his vocalizer crackling. "My systems registered the connection, but they recognized it as malevolent software. Safety protocols knocked me offline. Is Hues alrigh'?"

First Aid glanced toward Ratchet. "it's their programming, isn't it?" Ratchet's azure optics didn't flicker. "It's because it's so old?" The junior medic continued. "There was a compatibility conflict?

Ratchet smiled grimly, nodding. "Jazz has had a slagging lot of upgrades since they disappeared. I think even Kup would have that happen."

Jazz tilted his head. "Why didn't you think of this before Ratch?"

The CMO scowled. "My scans took the difference into account."

"An' you forgot?" A grin spread across the saboteur's face.

"Shut the slag up and get to med bay since you're feeling so spunky," Ratchet disconnected the scanner from Hues and gathered her into his arms.

First Aid went over to the quiet dancer and placed an arm over her doorwings. "Looks like you're getting that upgrade sooner than expected. Ratchet was going to fit you first." He pulled her closer as she shuddered. "Hues will be okay, Rhythm. She'll be online before the day cycle starts."

"That wasn't supposed to happen. Pirmus, I was so slagging frightened that they'd both terminated."

The Protectobot wrapped the blue dancer up in a caring embrace. "But it didn't happen Rhythm."

"They're all I have left now."

First Aid had no answer for that.

* * *

AN II: Yes, I realize that McDonald's bag might very well be out of date. I'm honestly not even sure if they served breakfast back in the er... late 80s. 


End file.
